Don't Worry About Me
by Aldarona Finarfin
Summary: Frodo and Sam, post war. Sam is spending all of his time tending to Frodo and not with his family. Frodo decides to stop it.


'Mister Frodo is not feeling well, Rosie.  I realize that today is the first nice day in quite a bit of time, but Frodo needs me.'  Samwise Gamgee took his wife's hand in his and softly ran his thumb along her smooth skin.  It had always made him smile, the feel of his it.  He was amazed she even let him touch her, his hands had become rough with his years of gardening and the quest, but those memories were not ones he liked to reflect on.

            'Sam, what am I to tell Elanor?  She wants her father to play with her, just once,' she replied, her eyes holding a desperate pleading.  But Sam did not look her in the eyes, and only shrugged.

            'Tell her Uncle Frodo needs me.  There will be other days Rosie.'  Rosie's shoulders fell.

            'Yes, I suppose so.'  She stood up and smoothed out her skirt on her thighs.  'Have fun with Frodo.' 

            'I'm not so sure Mister Frodo is in any mood for fun, Rosie.  He hasn't been in quite some time.  Come on, I'll walk you down to the gate.'  He stood up and disappeared behind the round door of Bag End.  

            A loud sigh escaped from behind the corner and Frodo Baggins appeared.  He stood a little bent, yet no cane he carried; he had to stubborn a will to walk with a cane, even when he felt horribly sick.  And today he did feel horrible, far worse than anything since the- well, he preferred not to think about that night.

It was nearing the anniversary, only a few more days.  A hand slowly drifted up to his shoulder, but stopped before he touched it.  With a frown, he let it fall to it's natural position.  _They don't control me,_ he thought, _they never did.  And they are no longer here. _He shook his head and slowly walked to one of the round windows that were letting the warm fall sun light in, making the whole room brighter.  He stood in the warmth for a minute, his arms tingling from the cool contrast they had just left.  

Frodo pressed his nose up against one of the windows and looked out for Sam.  He saw him with Elanor in his arms and Rosie at his side. After a few minutes, Sam set Elanor down and Rosie took her hand.  She said something to her and then started leading Elanor away.  The girl took a last look at her father before forlornly walking away with her mother.  Frodo sighed again.  Elanor was a beautiful child, not like the Elves, but a Hobbit beauty, which was really the only way to be when it came down to it.  She was a very happy child, and she reminded him greatly of Sam.

Sam stood watching them walk away for a minute, and then turned to walk back into Bag End.  Frodo sighed and sat down.  Sam was his best friend in the world, and in some ways, ever since Bilbo left to Rivendell, the only family he had.  But, and this was the case more now then it had been ever, he sometimes hated how loyal he was.  Quite often now, he had been feeling sick and unable to get out of bed, and quite often little Elanor was left with her mother to go play with the other children. 

Sam walked in hurriedly and went to Frodo's room, not noticing Frodo was sitting by the window.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's voice came, loud and a little panicked, "Mr. Frodo?"  Sam appeared briefly as he hurriedly ran into the kitchen.

"Sam, I'm in here," Frodo said quietly.  Sam ran into the room and a look of relief flooded over his face.

"Mr. Frodo, you shouldn't be out of your room, it's not good for your health."  Sam went to help Frodo up, but Frodo shook his head.

"Sam, you should be with Elanor and Rosie."  Sam looked at the neatly laid wooden floor, but said nothing.  A moment of silence passed between the two.  The clouds outside drifted lazily in front of the sun, making the room grow dark, and then bright once again as they continued away.  Suddenly Frodo started laughing quietly.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, looking at him uncertainly.

"Do you remember that time, Sam, when we were in the middle of Mordor, trying to be really quiet and trying to find our way, and I said something about Rosie, and you just about killed me?"  Sam looked troubled at the thought of Mordor for a minute, but then a smile broke out over his face.

"Yes, but I don't think I almost killed you…" Sam replied, his cheeks turning a light pink.  He remembered it well, it was one of the last cheery conversations they had before they got to Gondor.  Frodo had been teasing him about Rosie, and he kept denying it.

"Oh, come Sam, I think threatening to cook me up is a death threat."

" I was only joking," Sam said quietly, feeling fairly bad.  He never thought Frodo would think him serious of something like that.

"I know," Frodo said.  He really loved this Hobbit.  He hadn't changed like Merry, Pippin, or he had, he was still the same, loveable, still a little chubby, Hobbit.  A smile broke out on his face once again.  "I really couldn't have done it without you Sam.  All this would be lost if not for you."  Sam turned a bright red and began to shake his head 'no'.  

"Mr. Frodo…"Sam began, but couldn't think of anything to say.  He walked over to Frodo and took his right hand in his.  Frodo's middle finger had healed excellently by the skills of Aragorn, but it still was no more than a tiny stub.  Sam let out a shaky sigh as he fought with sudden over whelming emotions.  He also remembered that moment, so clearly, yet so distant, as if it happened in another lifetime.  

"Oh Sam, you don't have to worry about that.  That was my fault," Frodo said.  He was smiling, but there was no hiding the memories of such excruciating pain from Sam.  He knew Frodo better than anyone, and could read Frodo's eyes very well.

"I'm sorry," he said, almost in a whisper.  

"Sam, it wasn't your fault," Frodo replied, and pulled his hand away from Sam.  Sam stood where he was, his chin pressed to his chest, trying very hard not to cry.  Frodo studied him for a minute, and then stood up as fast as he could.  He drew Sam into a tight embrace, which Sam returned with much fervor.  

"Sam," Frodo started, his voice a little muffled by Sam's shoulder, "Go play with Elanor.  She – and Rosie – need you more than I."   Sam raised his head to look at him.

"But, Mr. Frodo, you're sick," Sam said, and released his tight grip on him, as if fearing that so much pressure would surely kill him.  

"Well Sam, ever since you talked to me, I've been feeling much better.  In fact, I think I'm going to go work on the book.  Go on, while the light still lasts."  Sam looked at Frodo for a minute, before a large grin took over his face and he ran towards the door.  

"Thank you Mister Frodo!" he said, and then disappeared outside.  Frodo looked at the door with a light smile on his lips.  

"You'll understand one day Sam.  And you'll come soon after as well," he said.  Then he turned and slowly began to his bed.  He was so tired, and his shoulder was aching.  A cold sweat was forming on his fore head, but he tried paying no mind to it, or the thoughts that were causing the reaction. It would soon all be gone.     


End file.
